


to build a home

by sparxwrites



Series: this place is shelter [2]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Comfort, Communication, Cultural Differences, Fluff, Gen, Language Barrier, M/M, Teaching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-04 00:32:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2902832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparxwrites/pseuds/sparxwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You can't hear the difference?” asks Honeydew, cheerful and kind as always. He's the only thing keeping this experience bearable – well, him and Lalna, anyway. The pair of them are endlessly patient, but never pitying or overly sympathetic, and Xephos is so grateful to them for it. “ɖɔʀ nɔ.”</p><p>Most importantly, they've made an effort of their own to pick up some of Xephos' language, too. It's not much, and their pronunciation is generally atrocious, but it's something. A little taste of home that always manages to soothe them.</p><p>(In which Xephos comes up against language barriers with their new friends, and Honeydew and Lalna do their best to help them through it.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	to build a home

**Author's Note:**

> they/their pronouns are used for xephos because a) their species doesn’t have genders, b) honeydew and lalna have no way of asking for their gender/pronouns anyways, and c) because they currently can’t speak minecraftian, they’re not capable of okaying the use of gendered pronouns to describe them.
> 
> translations for xephos' speech [can be found here](http://sparxwrites.tumblr.com/post/106437845713/translation-for-xephos-and-honeydew-and-lalnas).

"Bat, pat," says Honeydew as he chops a parsnip into rough chunks. The words are over-exaggerated, over-pronounced, the movements of his lips too big and rounded for it to sound natural or comfortable – but it emphasises the difference between the two sounds, which is what he needs right now.

“ɛ, ɛ… B-at, b-h-at? B-hhh-at?” tries Xephos, hopefully. _P_ and _b_ are the two most frustrating sounds they’ve ever come across, strange pushes of air from behind their lips that sound _exactly the same_ to them, but apparently not to their new friends.

It’s made worse by the fact that apparently they can _make_ the sounds reasonably well, now they’ve worked out the contortions they need to put their mouth through to get them. They just can’t hear the difference.

Honeydew shakes his head. “No,” he says, voice even and infinitely patient as always. “Bat, pat. B-at, p-at. Yes?” They’ve been at this for half an hour, now, and they’re no closer to Xephos being able to recognise the difference between a _b_ and a _p_ than they were when they started, but he refuses to let it get to him. Already, Xephos is managing to pronounce the letters far better than they could at the beginning, and that’s progress enough for Honeydew.

“I- I-” Xephos makes a frustrated noise, fingers curling around the wooden edge of the kitchen table. “Not-” They touch their ear, the words refusing to cooperate them even though they _know_ they should be able to say this.

“You can't hear the difference?” asks Honeydew, cheerful and kind as always. He's the only thing keeping this experience bearable – well, him and Lalna, anyway. The pair of them are endlessly patient, but never pitying or overly sympathetic, and Xephos is so grateful to them for it. “ɖɔʀ nɔ.”

Most importantly, they've made an effort of their own to pick up some of Xephos' language, too. It's not much, and their pronunciation is generally atrocious (Honeydew a little less so, the guttural tones of his native Dwarvish serving him well for pronouncing some of the more unusual sounds of Xephos' language) but it's _something_. A little taste of home that always manages to soothe them.

“ʈʌn,” says Xephos, and then catches themself. They nod their head, a gesture still foreign enough to them they have to do it consciously, left hand making their own familiar _yes_ even as they do so. “Yes. I k- cæn't hear the di-” Another sound they’re not that used to making – at least this one occurs in their own language, but only ever at the end of words, and trying to fit it in the middle of one is surprisingly hard. “Di-ffff-uh-rence.”

It's close enough that Honeydew doesn't bother to correct it, not when Xephos already looks tense through every inch of their body and on the edge of real distress. “Okay,” says Honeydew, quietly, putting down the knife and sighing a little at the sight of Xephos curled over the table, pressing their forehead against its varnished surface. “That’s okay. ɖɔʀ nɔ.”

When Xephos says nothing in response, Honeydew sighs again, crosses the room to rest a hand on their shoulder. “It’s okay, friend,” he says, presses a kiss to the dark fluff of Xephos’ hair and smiles at the familiar rumbling purr of contentment the gesture draws from deep in Xephos’ chest. The slow ripples of light that run through their freckles at the slightest physical contact is oddly soothing. “We’ll take a break, okay? No more _p_ and _b_ today.”

“Not _b-b_?” Xephos sounds so relieved that Honeydew feels a little guilty at pushing them so far today. They probably should have stopped earlier – but then, Xephos probably wouldn't have let him stop.

From what Honeydew can tell through the language barrier, Xephos is talkative, sociable, intelligent. People-oriented. The inability to communicate seems to be horribly frustrating for them, and they're pushing themself incredibly hard to learn how to. It's fantastic, means they've made huge progress in a short space of time, but it also means Xephos overworks and upsets themself more often than either Honeydew or Lalna would like.

Honeydew hums thoughtfully, trying to think of something fairly easy that won't stress Xephos out too much more. "How about pronouns?" he suggests, after a moment's consideration. Xephos _still_ hasn't quite managed to grasp them, and he half-wishes they'd just left them referring to everything as _they_. But the damage is done now, and he figures the best they can do is to keep practicing until Xephos works them out.

It probably won't be that long. Xephos picks almost everything up with a speed that borders on alarming.

The suggestion draws a groan from Xephos, and a scowl. “ɖʌŋɒʀ gɒsɔnəs – ɖʌŋɒʀ _kʌt_ gɒsɔnəs. ɛə dɪəɹ ɔɪ gɒsɔn, ðɪə, ɛə nɔ ‘nɔ’. ɛə nɔ nin. _ɔɪ gɒsɔn_ ,” they say firmly.

“Aww, c'mon,” says Honeydew, turning to smile at Xephos and barely suppressing a laugh at the disgruntled look of faint disgust on their face. He hadn't understood anything Xephos had said, other than the occasional unenlightening word, but judging by their expression it was nothing complimentary. "Don't look so grumpy, you big fusspot. It'll be fun!"

“ _Fun_ ,” says Xephos, flatly, one eyebrow raised. Honeydew's well aware it's probably the only word they managed to pick out, which makes their reaction all the more amusing.

“Fun,” repeats Honeydew determinedly, before adding, “Table.” He points to the well-worn chunk of wood on legs that Xephos is currently sat at.

“Taple,” mutters Xephos sulkily, the mispronunciation clearly deliberate and more than a little sarcastic. It's enough to draw a laugh from Honeydew, low and rich, and Xephos can't help but smile a little against their arms before sitting up. “ɛ, it? It is tab-h-le.”

Honeydew nods. “It is _a_ table,” he corrects, laughs when Xephos makes an impatient sort of noise and waves a dismissive arm. They're right, though – words like _the_ and _a_ are hardly important right now. “Okay, okay. Another one. Um… Lalna.”

“Lalna… i!” Xephos smiles – they know this one. “Is Lalna he.” It's not a question, just a slight scrambling of Minecraftian grammar. Honeydew doesn't correct them – and sure enough, there's a pause, and then they spot their mistake, fix it. “He is Lalna. You…” They can't remember the correct form of the verb for this, so they improvise. “-is Honeydew. Honeydew is he.”

Blinking in surprise at being spontaneously offered a sentence – usually, Xephos waits for prompting when they're playing these word games – Honeydew nods, grinning widely. “Yeah!” he says, feeling sort of proud of how far Xephos has come in the few short weeks they've been with him and Lalna. “He is Honeydew- _I_ am Honeydew.” Xephos laughs at his mistake, and he smiles. “iʒɔ gɔsi! Hmmm… What about Lomadia?”

“ɛ… ʒe. Zhe?” Lomadia’s difficult – they’ve only met her twice, still can’t pronounce her name properly, and can’t quite manage the raspy sound that starts off her pronouns. It’s frustrating, how close they can get to it without quite managing it. “Zhhhh-e. Sssss-he. Se?” They make an angry noise,

"She," corrects Honeydew, lips twisting unhappily at the frustrated groan that escapes Xephos. "gɔsi ɛə nɔ! gɔsi ɛə nɔ. nɔ ɖɔʀ."

Xephos' expression softens at the words, a small smile curling the corners of their lips. "No. gɔsi nɔ," they correct, pleased to be on the other end of the teaching for once.

“gɔsi nɔ?” repeats Honeydew uncertainly, turning round from the stove to watch Xephos and beaming when they smile and nod. “Good!” Xephos's mood restored, he casts around for something else to use in their game. “Carrot,” he says eventually, when his eye falls on it where it sits innocuously on the chopping board. He holds one up for Xephos to see – still a little brown with mud, and topped with a froth of green not-quite-leaves.

Xephos brightens at the sight of it, perking up a little as their freckles give the now-familiar ripple of light that indicates interest. “Carrot?” they say, and then pause. “ɛ… Uh, they?” They smile, reach out for it. “I have?”

“It,” corrects Honeydew, smiling slightly as Xephos groans. "Not a person, remember?"

“gik nɔ ɒðɪə! nɔ ʈʌ dʒiʒɒʀ! gɔðʌt ɒs… kʌt ɹədɪɹ iŋ gɒsɔn ʌðʌʀ, ðɪə, nɔ giɹɪŋəf,” grumbles Xephos darkly, dragging a hand through their hair. It's getting longer, now, _too_ long – certainly not regulation-cropped any more, as they half-remember it needing to be. They like it like this, though, longer and soft and messy. “kʌt siæə ziʒə, ðɪə, sɪdʒən ɒs nɔ.”

“What was that?” asks Honeydew, turning around to raise an eyebrow. He doesn't know much of Xephos' language, certainly less than Xephos knows of his, but the tone of voice is unmistakable.

Xephos shrugs a little self-consciously. “Not-” they start, and then remember for the thousandth time that they don't have the words for what they want to say. “nɔ ðɔsiɹ. Not. Not have- not,” they just say, shrugging, slumping down onto the table with their cheek pillowed on their arm. “It is carrot. They is not carrot. I have? I have carrot?” They reach out a hand towards Honeydew, make a vague grasping motion towards the carrot to try and convey what they can't fully with their words.

“No, I'm cooking dinner now,” says Honeydew, setting it back down on the sideboard. “Later. With dinner.” He tries to keep his sentences short and simple when he needs Xephos to understand something more than he needs to communicate correct grammar. The alien understands a lot more than they can say right now, and although Honeydew chooses his words carefully, he's not rude enough to talk to Xephos like they're an idiot or a child.

“Cuking dinner?” asks Xephos, curiously. They know dinner – the food that happens once a day, in the dead time between afternoon and evening – but the rest of the phrase eludes them.

Honeydew nods, tilts the pot he's dumping diced carrots and various other vegetables of spurious origin into. “Cooking,” he says, miming out stirring the pot. His skills at charades have improved tenfold over the past few months. “Cook. Make food.”

“i!” Xephos nods. “ziʒɔŋ. ɛ, Honeydew cu- cooking?” The vowels are easier to get their mouth around, they’ve found. They might not get them right first time, but they can at least _make_ them without frustrating themself to the point of tears.

“Honeydew _is_ cooking,” Honeydew corrects, absently, dumping the last of the vegetables into the pot before pushing it onto the already-warmed stove. There’s chicken already in the oven, and potatoes, cooking slowly and filling the kitchen with warm flavour. “Um… ziʒɔŋ hʌnidʒu?”

Xephos nods their deliberate approval, fingers opening and closing excitedly. “ziʒɔŋ hʌnidʒu, ziʒɔŋ ɪɹæ hʌnidʒu, ʈʌn. kɒðæ!” They smile. “Yes. Good."

Most of that goes over Honeydew's head, but he hears the phrase he'd said before repeated back at him, along with the word he thinks is _yes_ , so he figures he's done okay, and grins when Xephos confirms it in Minecraftian.

He’s casting around for another object or person to use in their game, when his thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the front door opening. For a second, he’s not sure who it is – and then a faint thump and mild cursing and huffing confirms the visitor to be Lalna. Sure enough, a second later, a familiar face framed by blonde hair appears around the doorframe into the kitchen, quickly followed by a lab coat and the rest of Lalna’s body.

“lælnə!” Xephos smiles, waves at the scientist. “H-ello, Lalna.” They overpronounce the _h_ , as always, more of a heavy exhale than an actual consonant – but that doesn’t seem to bother Lalna, who waves back with a wiggle of his fingers. “Honeydew am- am- is? Is cu- cooking. They- _he_ is n-ake food. N-ake carrot.” Each phrase is a struggle to get out, a fight to remember the words and the order they come in and the sounds they’re made of. "I not have carrot.” They cast a wounded, sulky look in Honeydew’s direction, and are completely ignored.

The _m_ continues to elude them, but Lalna understands all the same. “Hey, Honeydew. Hello, Xephos! Uh- ziθi kʌt?”  
“ziði kʌt-ɒt,” corrects Xephos, grinning at the mispronunciation. They wait for Lalna to parrot it back to them correctly, and then nod their approval.

Once he’s got the phrase right Lalna grins, presses a finger to one lip when he catches Xephos’ eye – with no idea whether they understand the gesture or not – and then sidles up behind Honeydew.

“What're you cooking?” he asks, peering into the pot and then making an indignant noise bordering on a squeak when Honeydew shoos him away. “I was only curious!”  
“You can be curious when it’s on your plate,” says Honeydew, swatting at him with a spoon and grinning when Lalna stumbles quickly out of reach. “Get ye gone, you pest, you’re cluttering my cooking area.”

Huffing, Lalna slumps down into one of the chairs around the worn kitchen table, before producing the carrot he’d snagged from the chopping board and offering it to Xephos. “For you,” he says in a stage whisper, grinning delightedly at the excited noise Xephos makes and the way their eyes light up as they take the carrot.

The grin turns to puzzlement when Xephos begins happily chewing on the green fluff that tops the carrot, freckles rippling with satisfied light. “Um?” he says, frowning, and Xephos gives him a quizzical look in return with a mouth full of carrot leaves.

Honeydew turns around at the noise, and sighs in despair at the sight. “Lalna!” he says, shaking his head. “You’ll spoil them. Honestly.”  
“I’m not…” Lalna squirms like a scolded child, twisting his fingers together. “I didn’t know they wanted to eat the _top_ of it. That’s _weird_.”

“Don’t be rude!” This time, Honeydew actually does hit him, raps the wooden spoon smartly on his head. It’s more of a tap than anything, but it still makes a dull _thunk_ , and Lalna rubs a hand over the spot with an aggrieved whine.

Xephos sits and watches them as they argue and chat, words too fast and unfamiliar for them to pick out more than the odd phrase. It’s frustrating, and even though the progress they’ve made delights them, they’re still annoyed and angry they haven’t made _more_.

There’s so much they want to say – talk to Lalna about his machines and Honeydew about all the different rocks he owns, ask about the food of this world and the plants and the animals, wants to be able to find out his new friends’ favourite colours and their likes and dislikes and ages and histories – and the helpless irritation at not being able to do that wells up in their throat, choking them. They try to swallow around the frustration, push it down, but it’s _hard_ , and their hands clench into fists.

But then Honeydew catches their eye and smiles at them, and some of the frustration eases. They feel their freckles ripple with light, the small display one of calm and safety and friendship. When Honeydew’s grin widens at the sight they realise that, maybe, words aren’t as important as they’d thought.


End file.
